


I'll Trade my Crown for This

by alikuu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dubious Consent, Forced Incest, Gentle rapist, Incest, Incest - One Partner Feels Too Guilty About Their Desires To Consent, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Shame in Sexual Desires, boy prince xcons his king father - Freeform, rapist doesn't realise its rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikuu/pseuds/alikuu
Summary: When prince Dowgomor loses his birthright to his half-brother  he demands his ever-distant father king Sumnos to give him the love and validation a firstborn son deserves. And when that's not enough, he asks for something more...





	I'll Trade my Crown for This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kurage_hime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurage_hime/gifts).



> Big thank you to Sleeplessmalice for the awesome beta!!!

The king summoned his two sons into his private study to announce an important decision. The princes shared nothing but their common father’s cunning green eyes, a feature of the Morlion clan that had passed from generation to generation, seemingly since the beginning of time. Dowgomor was tall and dark, like his mother Lilian, the Queen who had died young, soon after giving birth to the King’s firstborn son. Luidovik was brawny and strong, with hair like cornflower, just like his own mother, Suzaah, the new Queen of Valeciatte.

“My sons,” king Sumnos begun, his voice a deep baritone, originating from a powerful chest, more reminiscent to his younger son’s, then to his elder’s willowy build. “It is not with a light heart that I have summoned you here to hear my decision. I don’t want you to think that in doing so, I am making a show of favoritism, because you know that I love both of you just the same,” the king added looking at Dowgomor before his eyes turned to his second son Luidovik, who couldn’t resist beaming his handsome smile to his sire.

“I decided that upon my demise, the crown will pass to Luidovik,” king Sumnos continued and a small hiss of sharply drawn breath was heard coming from Dowgomor’s direction. The whisper was so small, that it was easy to ignore and Sumnos continued, “Despite being the younger of the two, Luidovik has inherited clan Morlion’s valiance and skill in leadership, and at such a youthful age, he has already made many friends among the ranks of my generals. My councilmen believe in him, and they would gladly follow him after my death.”

Sumnos paused, directing his attention back to Dowgomor, whose green eyes had darkened so much that they rather appeared  black instead. Seeing that his reaction was tested, the elder prince straightened his shoulders and nodded his acquiescence mechanically.

“I respect your wish father, as I have respected every decree that you ever issued,” Dowgomor turned to his younger brother with a bow, “I salute you, Luidovik. You have earned the privilege of our father’s favor.”

“You both have,” the king asserted, turning towards his younger son, who was doing an admirable impression of humbled joy. “I expect you to take your brother Dowgomor as your most trusted advisor and second in command. He is wise beyond his years, just as you are strong beyond yours.”

Dowgomor’s green eyes shined tellingly for a moment when he glanced up to look at his father with a broken expression, but the moment passed quickly as his eyes immediately darted away. If the Queen, or any of the guards noticed, they remained silent.  

“Your older brother has read nearly every book in our library, mastered many languages and understands everything from the subtle sciences to the strange customs of foreign nations,” Sumnos continued to praise his eldest. “Dowgomor has already made a name for himself as a cunning diplomat. He is as sly as a spy and as gracious as a courtier. Your older brother will advice you in the things too delicate for the likes of men like you and me,” King Sumnos finished with a conspiratory laugh directed towards his second son, who returned it.

The king’s eyes found his older son’s for a moment, and there he saw a different form of grief.

“Enough with politics! We shall have a feast to celebrate and commemorate Luidovik’s succession rights,” the king announced joyously. “I want everyone of any importance invited -”

“Yes, milord,” Adrig, the king’s manservant was taking notes already.

“- and my son Dowgomor, should be seated on the seat of honor on my left!”

The Queen shot her step-son a look, which she promptly hid away, but the older prince didn’t fail to read its poison. If he returned it just the same, well, no one dared to mention that either.

…

Later that night Dowgomor was preparing for bed in his opulent bedchamber. His manservant dressed him in a fine long robe of silk, which reached all the way to the young man’s calves, and brushed the long dark waves of the prince’s hair. An ornate four-poster bed with heavy dark-blue curtains awaited the eldest prince, decorated with many down pillows and mink fur blankets to chase away the cold.   Beside the bed a lamplight burned to give the prince the luxury of reading before he fell asleep.

Winters in the castle were always drafty and not even the thick tapestries that hung from every wall could block off the chill that permeated every nook and cranny. Shivering a bit, Dowgomor sat on his bed, lifted the heavy beddings and slid his long legs under with a small sigh. Sithi had just removed the heated stones from his bed, leaving it cozy for the prince.

“You may rest now, Sithi,” Dowgomor dismissed his servant. The older man bowed before his prince before he retreated to a corner of the prince’s bedchamber. There waited a small cot with several blankets for him.    

Dowgomor closed the curtains around his bed save the one that faced the lamplight and picked up the heavy tome, which he intended to read. It was then that a knock came from the door. Sithi was up in an instant, answering the door where the king’s messenger waited.

“His majesty would like to speak to his excellency, prince Dowgomor,” the man announced. It wasn’t a request.

Dowgomor answered nevertheless, attempting to rise from the bed, “Tell my father that I’m always happy to see him.”

“My grace, there is no need to rise. The king is coming to see you here.”

Not a moment later, Dowgomor heard his father’s baritone resonate from the hallway.

“You are dismissed, both of you,” the King said in his customary easy manner, before barging into his son’s bedchamber with an open expression on his aging, yet handsome face. “I demand to speak to the prince alone, like a father would to his son.”

The servants bowed and left, closing the wooden door behind them.

Dowgomor promptly stood from his bed, dressed in nothing but his sleeping gown, his feet bare on the soft wool rug undeath him.

“Get back into bed, boy!” His father, the king reprimanded, “You will catch your death in this cold.”

Dowgomor obeyed without question, sitting up in his bed and sliding closer to the edge, wrapped in blankets, silks and furs.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, father?” he asked when he finally found his voice. He  hated that he sounded hesitant and young, despite being fully grown and of age if he were of common descent.

“I think you know the answer to your own question,” his father murmured. The king walked through the room to retrieve a high-backed chair and drag it to his son’s bedside. There he sat down, or rather sprawled in a manner that looked too regal to be called lazy. It reminded Dowgomor of his step-brother, and momentarily he felt bitter to the core, but then it passed - he could never look at his magnificent father with anything other than admiration.

“I know you must be disappointed,” king Sumnos begun.

“I am not,” his son objected quickly and impolitely, but thankfully none of his tutors were there to reprimand him, and his father had never cared overmuch for courtly etiquette. “I accept your decision with all my heart, soul and mind,” Dowgomor continued, his voice steady despite the bitterness he felt. “And I am happy for my brother, as I know you would want me to be. In this, as in everything, I am forever loyal to you, father.”

“If that is so, why then are you so sad, son?” the King asked gently and Dowgomor could barely hide the tears rising in his green eyes. “Luidovik will be a good king to you. He adores you.”

“It’s just that, father,” Dowgomor hesitated, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes but then found the resolve to finally say what was really on his mind. “You say my brother adores me and he’ll be a kind king to me, but I am never sure if you…”

His courage only took him so far and he fell silent yet again.  

“Continue!” The King disliked cowards above all else and Dowgomor knew it well.

He began anew, gathering all his courage. “What bothers me, is that I am never certain if I have your adoration, father,” Dowgomor said and averted his eyes, afraid to see the  reaction to his words on his father’s face.

“You’re my firstborn son,” king Sumnos reprimanded. “You indeed should know that you are first in my heart.”

“Even after mother died,” Dowgomor ventured and saw his father flinch as if struck. “I know that it’s not easy for you… to even look at me…”

Dowgomor noticed the emotions transform on his father’s face. “Oh,”the king said, then stood from his armchair and walked towards Dowgomor’s bed where he sat down on the edge of the bed. The embrace that followed was perhaps unexpected but not unwelcomed at all. For a moment they sat together like that, Sumnos holding Dowgomor like he had so often when the prince was just a child and the prince, an adult grown by now, hid his face in his father’s shoulder.  

“Of course I love you, son,” king Sumnos reassured, stroking the prince’s dark curls. “It’s true that you are your mother’s son and often you remind me  of the pain I felt when she died, but she wouldn’t have wanted me to love you any less for it. I don’t. You are my firstborn son, my biggest happiness. I am so proud of you.”

Dowgomor let out a small sob.. For years he had hungered for those words to hear. The older Luidovik grew, showing great potential in courtly routine, the more time the king has spent with him. It sat ill with Dowgomor, all of it; the way his father tend to his new family, how he cherished his new queen, the woman who had replaced his mother.  However, there was more to it. Sometimes, when Dowgomorwatched the king spar with Luidovik in the pits, both of them stripped down to their trousers, painted in the colors of their clan, wielding axes or battle hammers hammers and shields, Dowgomor found himself looking at his father’s body a little bit too hard. At first, he thought not much of it but day after day he found himself returning to the training grounds, excitement and anticipation coursing through him in hopes to catch another glimpse and at night he dreamt.

The dreams the prince kept having told him all he never wanted to know about himself. In his dreams, his corrupted mind spoke and whispered to him;  he wished to be the one rolling on the dirty ground with his half-naked father, covered in grime and sweat, the one whom the warrior ing pinned under that brawny torso, struggling to gain the upper hand, just like his half-brother often did. He imagined himself in fair Luidovik’s place, and he wished it was his braided hair his father tugged; that it was him, overpowering their sire, straddling Sumnos’ powerful thighs and pointing a knife at the King’s neck, making him smile with pride at his son.

And when Dowgomor awoke from those dreams, he was hard. He felt no shame in taking his arching length in hand and stroked as fast and as hard as he could, bringing himself to completion in mere seconds.

After all, wasn’t he entitled to at least some of the  love and attention that his father kept denying him?

Was it truly his fault that his desires ran so hot and against common decency, after he had been deprived of his father’s love for most of his life?

The books in the castle’s library confirmed that it wasn’t so.  Sophius and Maleziu would say, if they were still alive to analyze the prince’s mind, that it was his father at fault, for being such a neglectful sire.

It was unsurprisingly that in his father’s embrace, Dowgomor’s desires of old awoke.

“Father,” Dowgomor murmured against his father’s chest, clinging to him when Sumnos attempted to loosen the hold. “Stay with me tonight, please. I need you.”

“The Queen is waiting, and you’re not a boy anymore, Dowgomor,” Sumnos’s baritone vibrated against the prince’s ear.

“Haven’t you denied me enough today?” Dowgomor asked bitterly, his voice barely a whisper.. “Didn’t you just take everything from me? The throne, my birthright? My future?”

The prince lifted his gaze to look up at his father’s battle-hardened face. He saw a war being fought in the king’s green eyes. His father’s eyes were like the forest reflected in a glade on a hot summer’s day whilst Dowgomor’s own were like a well of secrets, cold stone covered in emerald moss in the depth of night; it was strange how different the same color could look on two individuals.

“You told me that you accepted my decision with all your heart,” king Sumnos gently admonished his son.

“Only if I know that I have your love and adoration in return,” the prince countered, holding on to the retreating king with all the strength in his willowy arms.

“I already told you that you have them,” his father argued back. Dowgomor noticed with certain triumph the uncertainty that crept into his sire’s voice as he began to realize that something was unnatural  about the way his son clung to him and refused to allow him to stand up from the bed.

“Sometimes, words are not not enough. To believe, and to trust you, I need more than words this time,” Dowgomor whispered against his father’s exposed neck, just above the high collar of the king’s tunic.

...

The king breathed out a gasp of surprise as he felt the prince’s soft lips brush against the skin there. Shivers ran down the older man’s spine, Sumnos gripped his son’s bony shoulders, pushing him back with force.

“What on earth do you think you are doing, Dowgomor,” the king asked, bewilderment visible upon his face. The prince felt tears of rejection fill his eyes but he held on to his father’s muscly arms, refusing to let go.

“Please, father, please,” Dowgomor sobbed. “If you truly love me, if you still care about me, just grant me my wish! It is all I ask for, only tonight.”

“That’s not the way of our people…” Sumnos, usually so confident and calm, stuttered in shock. “Don’t ask this of me  this, Dowgomor. Ask for anything else but this. ”

“It’s also not the way of our people for the second-born son to take the crown, yet you altered the unwritten rules,” Dowgomor argued heatedly. “I ask you this: are you not king in these halls, and are you not the one who dictates the laws of this land? It is in your power to give whatever you wish to. Give me this and I will be forever quiet, forever loyal, always a good son to you. Give me this and I’ll accept Luidovik as my king.”

King Sumnos breathed hard, looking at his son, unable to see anything but a reflection of his long dead wife. Cornflower-fair Suzaah, who now awaited him in his royal chambers, was nothing compared to what Dowgomor’s mother had been to him. Horrified by what he saw, Sumnos averted his gaze. Without giving permission, Sumnos felt his son’s disputable eagerness upon his skin. Dowgomor’s  hands were already moving in a way they never should, creeping beneath the fur cloak, which kept him warm. He felt his son’s hands dip lower, undoing the belt that held the tunic secured around his solid waist, sneaking beneath the layers and layers of clothing and touching the hot, sturdy flesh underneath. Dowgomor’s delicate hands were icy and Sumnos shivered with revulsion from the unnatural pleasure that their touch left lingering upon his skin.

“I am cold, father,” the prince complained, breathing hard against his ear and each word sickened Sumnos to the core. “Put me to bed, and come under the covers with me. Hold me, like you never did. Show me you love me still.”

The boy’s bony knee forced Sumnos’ thighs apart and ventured further until his knee brushed against the bulge in his father’s pants. Sumnos sucked in a hard breath, unable to control the flash of arousal that surged up his spine upon the forbidden touch. His son’s hands were under his clothes, everywhere at once, rubbing circles into his straining flesh. Dowgomor was possessively touching him and exploring the swells of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the plains of his shoulders and back and he knew he should fight, perhaps even had to, but felt he could not as the touch provoked sensations he had long forgotten. The touches bestowed upon his skin were inexperienced, the clumsy  fumbling of a virgin, but that did nothing to quell his own desire. It had been years when last he was touched with such fervor, perhaps even more than that. . Sumnos closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the image of his beautiful son’s dark hair and eyes, afraid that his courage to reject the boy may forsake him. He had hoped and yet he failed. Instead, the physical sensations overwhelmed him and with his eyes closed it was easier to imagine that it was the touch of his once beloved, now long gone queen who caressed him so.

At last he answered his son’s silent plea to truly join him. With eyes still closed Sumnos  slid under the covers next to his son and begun to rake his large hands over the silken nightgown Dowgomor wore, shifting so that he now lay on top of him. . When he heard a whine from underneath him, Sumnos slowed down his touches and forced his fingers towards gentleness in order to undress his son. His thick fingers slipped between the Dowgomor’s slender thighs, working their  way up, and with his eyes closed, he could almost believe it was sweet Lilian wriggling beneath him. The illusion shattered into a thousand pieces when under his touch his son surged up, pushing his erection right into his father’s hand.

Quite shocked, Sumnos opened his eyes and immediately pulled his hands back, bile rising up his throat. Despite the dark hair curling luxuriously over the cushions it wasn’t Lilian who he had caressed, it was his son, his own flesh and blood; it was Dowgomor who lay under him on the bed, his frame so small and fragile compared to his own bulkiness. There was no shame in the way Dowgomor’s looked at him, , eyes blown wide with wanton lust and desire.

“I… I can’t do this,” Sumnos told his son and raised himself up on his elbows, away from the inviting body underneath him.

“You have to,” Dowgomor murmured. His voice was alien to his father - so low and breathy, that he  no longer could recognise it as his son’s. “You cannot leave me like this, don’t you understand? It will break my heart - and perhaps more..”

Before Sumnos mind could comprehend, or rather digest the implication of his son’s words Dowgomor’s clever hands were already inside his father’s pants, pawning and stroking his thick erection, making the Sumnos shudder.. He could no longer control his lust but at the same time he couldn’t face the truth of his unnatural desire. The king knew that he  only had to raise his voice - or his hand to stop that madness from happening, but he found that he was powerless as if his eldest son had bewitched him. He had been king for decades now - authority was in his blood and freely he had used it in the past. Since when did he submit to his son’s deviant whims, he asked himself, and a slave of his desires?

The prince’s fingers pulled back the foreskin of his father’s cock, caressed the tip of his erection with his thumb, circling the tiny opening, teasing the sensitive head until Sumnos could not hold back a moan. A weakness and a tale, which he dearly wished to take back.

“What - what do you want of me?” he asked with helpless exasperation.

“I want you to -” Dowgomor licked his lips again, as if tasting the words like good wine before they left his lips, “- fuck me. I want you to - put your cock inside me. Fuck me like you would fuck your prettiest captains, on those nights after you win a battle.”

Sumnos closed his eyes and shook his head in denial. He wasn’t surprised that his son knew of his escapades on the battlefields. Such dalliances were not uncommon, however they were not acceptable in proper society. And there was shame associated with men who agreed to lie under other men. The king didn’t want this for his firstborn son.

“I love you, father,” the prince continued, kissing the signet ring on Sumnos’s hand and then his lips. “I love you, and I want you to - make love to me. I want you to be my first.”

“Quiet,” the King whispered, tears of shame gathering in his eyes - on his son’s behalf, and on his own. Despite wishing he played no part in this, he knew the lie the moment he had thought it; his hands were all but idle, already moving, regardless of everything he knew and believed in. The small part of his mind that still scolded him became distant, merely   from so far away that he could barely hear it.

“Don’t say another word, ”he whispered, keeping his eyes closed as he shrugged out of his heavy clothing with quick, efficient movements. Beside him, he could hear his son breathing hard, obeying his order to stay wordless, but making every other noise possible to voice his presence and his desire.

The king undressed quickly, leaving nothing on but his jewelry, and his son didn’t waste time to pull up his sleeping gown until it was bunched up under the young man’s underpits, exposing the entirety of his body beneath.

Dowgomor’s slender body was arching up, pushing against his father’s hard frame. Sumnos’ fingers, thickened by the battle hammer and the sword, gripped the prince’s small ass and lifted him upwards so that he could inch his way to the cleft between his cheeks. He felt his son’s small ring of muscle clench against his fingertips, eager yet unready. Growling lowly with desire, Sumnos reached over to the nightstand, knocking off the books that were stocked up there, in search of what he knew he would find - a small flask of lamp oil.

“Yes, yes,” Dowgomor hissed under his breath and turned around so that he lay on his front, shifting and struggling to pull the nightgown over his head. The way his son presented - or rather prostituted himself, all bare and vulnerable was truly shameful, yet Sumnos did not feel it.  “Quiet, I said,” Sumnos commanded and his son went immediately quiet. The only sounds that came from him were moans as he could not keep his hands still, stroking his erection trapped between the bed and his own weight. Briefly, Sumnos considered to scold him but found he could not.

Sumnos could no longer stop himself, even if he tried. He coated his cock  with oil and then, as gently as possible, oiled his son’s entrance too. Dowgomor pushed back wantonly against his father’s fingertips, and experimentally Sumnos pressed the tip of his thick index finger into his son’s tight arse.

Dowgomor let out a small yelp of pain, quickly followed by a moan and Sumnos did not even consider to stop. The noises his son made were encouragement enough, as were his movements. . The boy lifted his hips and pressed back into the King’s hand in a way that left nothing to the imagination. Sumnos’ hands shook as he slowly pressed his finger further into his son’s virginal entrance, watching with fascination as its stubby knuckles disappeared into the prince’s thin body.

He moved the finger back and forth as gently as possible, transfixed by the way the oily digit disappeared repeatedly  into the pink ring of muscle. Underneath him, Dowgomor clenched the silk bedsheets with his hands and let out a shuddering moan, climaxing all over the sheets accompanied by  shaky breaths.

He watched his son’s face turn on the pillow to look at him, the boy’s cheeks were flushed red, his eyes glassy and his mouth red, bitten and abused by his own teeth. Dowgomor breathed hard, slowly blinking, his green eyes focusing on his father lazily. The sight was almost too much for Sumnos, whose free hand went to his own shaft, pumping with slow, measured movements.

“More,” the boy prayed, “Please, sire, give me more…”

Sumnos let go of his erection, and carefully smoothed down his son’s lustrous curls, lovingly, adoringly, just like he hoped his son wanted him to.

“There there, now,” he spoke gently to Dowgomor as if he was still a child. “Isn’t this enough now? Didn’t you get what you wanted?”

“No,” Dowgomor’s eyes flashed greedily and he turned under his father’s body, lying on his back, so that now he was facing the king. “We are not done yet. How many years have you ignored me,  have favored my step-brother over your firstborn son? No, father, I will not be satisfied with half-measures. You must let me have all of you. Yes, I think I want to taste you. Do you hear me, father, let me taste your essence on my tongue!”

Sumnos was a king of a warring clan and he had never thought mere words could make him blush but tonight his son’s demand managed it. He was ashamed of his own desire to obey the boy’s wish. . He was a weak and filthy man, unworthy of his title and the power that came with it. What kind of a king bent to such lewd demands?

Yet he pushed back the covers, no longer cold despite the chill, revealing the muscular, hairy expanse of his abdomen, chest and legs. He crawled up his son’s lithe, long body, until his thighs were stradling the boy’s beautiful face.

All the while Dowgomor chanted “yes, yes, yes” under his breath, his pupils blown wide as they raked over his father’s exposed body, drinking in every inch of him with greed and this time, Sumnos let the insolence slip. He shivered when his son’s  long-fingered hands came up to trace the tight muscles of his legs, skirting up and behind him, to feel the rock-hard buttocks, and then up the ridge of the his powerful spine. Sumnos breathed hard, closing his eyes yet again. He wished he could erase the sight of his son’s mouth, split by such a lewd, hungry smile and tried to think of anything else but that expression on the prince’s face. Predictably, Sumnos failed, all the more when Dowgomor’s hands came back to his front,pumping his engorged organ whilst his other hand fondled the hairy sacks so eagerly it nearly hurt. King Sumnos let out another heaving breath. He kept his eyes closed as he felt his son’s breath upon his sweaty flesh, and the small sweep of tongue that followed it.

Dowgomor didn’t hesitate to reach up and engulf his father’s erection with his mouth, struggling to swallow all of it at once. His movements were awkward, inexperienced,  and untrained; perhaps in that clumsiness lay the true appeal. Sumnos couldn’t suppress a moan when his son’s throat closed around his ’ thick cock, smearing saliva and precum over his thighs. It had been years since the king had been with such a young, enthusiastic lover, and it was so hard to keep himself from thrusting into the prince’s wanton mouth.

Dowgomor withdrew his head. “Urgh, I can’t,” Dowgomor moaned, his hips thrusting up into the bunched up sheets that still covered him. “I must... I have to…”

King Sumnos understood and slipped back over his son’s body until he was lying between Dowgomor’s spread thighs. The prince grasped the King’s buttocks, digging his fingertips into the muscular flesh in a manner that was painful even to the seasoned warrior. Sumnos had no idea how he was going to explain the marks his son’s fingers surely left behind to his wife.

He obliged his son and took both their cocks in hand, grinding and  rutting together until the boy was breathless with desire, whispering dirty nothings against his skin, begging to be fucked.  Sumnos lifted his son’s arse from the bed and began to work two large fingers into his hole, carefully at first but soon more forcefully as his son’s body opened wantonly to him.  

“Yes, yes, like this,” Dowgomor encouraged him, senseless with lust. “Fuck me, father, I can’t hold back much longer… _please_.”

The sight of his son’s beautiful and youthful body, splayed opened beneath him, awaiting him with splayed legs  undid the King. He could no longer think straight - or think at all. All he knew was that he needed to bury himself inside his son’s reddened little hole, otherwise before he went insane. By then, the voice that screamed that this was his own son was quiet, overpowered by his heart pounding in his ears and his vision narrowed to a pinpoint.

Sumnos’ oiled up cock, large and thick, slid slowly in his son’s untried hole, eliciting groans from both of them. Dowgomor arched under him, keening even as he pushed as gently as possible but steadily further inside. He did not stop.Once he was buried to the hilt, he paused to let his catch his breath. Dowgomor’s body was shaking and clenching underneath him, and every movement went straight to his own cock, as did the tears he saw in his son’s eyes. Dowgomor’s breathing came short and pained. “It hurts, father, it hurts,” he whined when Sumnos moved ever so slightly to readjust his weight on his elbows.He   promptly stilled his movements.

He promptly stilled his movements. “Does it hurt too much?Do you want me to take it out? We can stop…”

“No! No,” Dowgomor snapped, “Don’t you dare stop now! Fuck me, fuck me… just do it - ah - gently…”

For a moment, Sumnnos considered, then began to move , fully aware that he was taking his son’s virginity, and hating himself for getting a thrill out of it. He was not just unfit to be king - he was unfit to be a father. He knew not how he’d face his dead wife when they met in the afterlife after what he had done, was doing still. But then, it was too late to stop and it felt way too good, his body straining for release. He thrust gently and at last, he felt Dowgomor’s ass relaxing around him and his pained moans turned quickly lustful. “Yes,” the prince huffed between hard breaths, “like that - ah -  yes, I love you… so - so much…”

Sumnos pushed those words to the back of his mind. He couldn’t bare to hear them. Ashamed of what he had become, he thought of something else and focused on moving the way his son wanted him to move, angling his thrusts to give the prince pleasure.

His son’s hand, thin and fragile, of, the kind that had rarely ever held a sword, cool and delicate as a scribe’s, touched the his face, bringing him back from the mindless reverie into which he had retreated.

“Come inside of me, father,” Dowgomor begged, cupping Sumnos’ broad face,“I want you to come inside me. Mark me as your own. ”

“Don’t ask that of me,” Sumnos battered his son’s hands away. d,

“I ask it of you,” Dowgomor demanded. “I command you, father, as the King I will never be. Just this one time I command you. Give this to me!”

There was authority in his son’s voice, cold and calculating, and for a moment Sumnos wondered if he had made the right decision in revoking his eldest son’s right to the crown.

“You will spend inside of me,” Dowgomor ordered. “And you will do it now!”

Sumnos wanted to believe that it was the squeeze of his son’s muscles around his cock and the sudden upward thrust that made him obey, spending his seed shamefully into his own son’s ass. He wanted to think that it wasn’t him who was shuddering for breath like a dog in heat after he was done;who had sullied his own firstborn child with his ugly lust.

Finally, Dowgomor seemed satisfied. His son’s  hand worked his own erection with fast, erratic movements and in seconds he spilled his seed over his father’s shuddering abdomen.

Sumnos carefully rolled off his son.

“Thank you, my king,” Dowgomor’s said, shifting so that his slight frame curled up next to his father’s broad one. “My love...”

Sumnos was at a loss of what to say. He wished more than anything to retreat to his own chambers, to forget that this night had ever happened...

“Stay with me,” Dowgomor breathed against his father’s ear, licking along it. “Sleep here with me tonight.”

“You know I cannot” Sumnos uttered between awful, sordid breaths. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind was reeling. He could never forgive himself for what he had done, and he was afraid. Suddenly, he suspected a trap. What if his son planned to use it  as a way to depose him and gain the crown he had been denied? Sumnos would fall on his own sword before he faced his subjects with his shameful secret exposed.

“Yes, yes, your new queen awaits you." Dowgomor spat out the word queen as if it left a sour taste on his tongue. “Very well, go then. It wouldn’t do for her to suspect anything.”

Grateful with relief, Sumnos  extricated himself from this son’s bed in which he did not belong He trembled in the chilly air of the chamber, once again feeling its bite on his sweaty, naked flesh as he gathered the sprawled clothes and dressed briskly. He was just about to pull on his boots when his son spoke again.

“I expect you will visit me again soon,” Dowgomor’s smile was languid with satisfaction. “You know you have a lot to make up  for all the years you neglected me me.”

Sumnos shuddered at the casualness of his son’s demands.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say.

“Love me too?” Dowgomor suggested.

“Yes,” he somehow forced out between gritted teeth. “Yes, son. Of course I do.”

…

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, make sure to leave me a little comment to let me know! They always make my day and are especially encouraging for original fiction <3


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